


Crossroads

by morninggloriious



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Alternate Universe - Reverse Falls, Multi, My Attempt at Writing a Character that has been through Some Shit, PTSD, Past Child Abuse, Reverse Falls, Reverse! Gravity Falls, Slow Burn, Will update tags, mentions of child abuse, so slow, so very very slow
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-29
Updated: 2016-11-06
Packaged: 2018-07-27 13:05:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7619230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morninggloriious/pseuds/morninggloriious
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pacifica is sent to spend the summer in Gravity Falls and joins her cousin Gideon's crusade to solve the mysteries of the town. <br/>A Reverse Falls AU, but different, I hope.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Tintinnabulation

Gideon’s alarm clock woke Pacifica up before eight o’clock on a Saturday, and almost managed to inflict a panic attack on her in the process.

The thing gave off a high pitched _ring-aling-aling_ that pierced through the thin walls of the Gleeful homestead, and had sent Pacifica scrambling off the air mattress before she could remember where she was.

Or, more accurately, where she wasn’t.

_Not home. Gravity Falls. Uncle Bud’s house._

Thank God.

Pacifica relaxed out of the ramrod posture her mother had instilled in her and slumped back down onto the mattress, trying to calm her pounding heart, trying to emulate her old yoga instructor’s breathing techniques.

_Ringalingaling-_

But her heart still pounded.

That damn bell.

Pacifica stood up and marched out of her uncle Bud’s study and into the hallway, where the sound only grew louder. She stomped across the carpet, stopping in front of Gideon’s door, and pounded on it. “Gideon, turn that thing off!”

_-alingalingalingal-_

No reply. Goddamnit, he had told her he was going to set an alarm so he could get up early, but Pacifica hadn’t known it applied to that whole house. She punched the door, wincing back as the wood bit into her knuckles. “Gideon!”

Still nothing from her cousin. Down the hall, there was the shuffle of footsteps, and her aunt appeared, moving quickly and quietly past Pacifica and into the kitchen without making eye contact. Pacifica watched her go, momentarily diverted from the crisis of the ringing bell. The woman had yet to speak a word to her, and Pacifica had been staying in her house for two days.

_-ingalingalinga-_

She returned her attention to the door, which was still unmoved. The bell still rang, setting her teeth on edge. If the thing wasn’t turned off soon, she really was going to do something drastic.

Pacifica kicked the door. “Gideon, you ass! Open the stupid door!”

_-lingalinga- Click._

Silence. Blessed, beautiful silence.

After the time it took him to just reach over and turn the thing off, she doubted he would actually get up to open the door, so she called “Thank you!” and made a dash for the bathroom. If the little punk was going to wake her up with that demented clock, she was going to shower first. _And_ use up the hot water.

.

By the time Pacifica emerged from her makeshift bedroom in Uncle Bud’s study, fully dressed and hair slightly damp, Gideon was sitting at the kitchen table, fully dressed in his customary black and blue hoodie, his blue star hat perched on the edge of the table. He was fifteen, but with his messy white blonde hair and chubby cheeks, he looked even younger, especially since he was only about five foot two.

A plate of eggs and bacon sat in front of him, so far untouched as he typed furiously on his laptop. Uncle Bud sat across from him, breakfast already finished and the morning’s newspaper spread out before him. Her aunt wasn’t there, but Pacifica could hear the telltale sound of the vacuum in the living room.

Uncle Bud looked up from his paper as she went past, moving toward the stove, where a saucepan held the remaining eggs, and a paper towel was covered in bacon. “Well, hey there, sleepyhead! We’re real sorry about the alarm, aren’t we, son?” He looked imploringly at Gideon, who didn’t reply, still too focused on his computer.

Pacifica smiled at her uncle; he had been nothing but kind to her thus far, even if he was a little too deferential to his son. “Good morning, Uncle Bud.” As she turned her back to them to load up a plate with breakfast- actual breakfast! And she didn’t even have her mother sniffing in disgust over every bite she took! -she heard a small thud as Bud lightly slapped his hand against the tabletop, trying to get his son’s attention.

By the time she had poured herself a glass of OJ and sat down at the table, Gideon had come back to reality and had a sheepish expression on his face. “Sorry, Pacifica, about the alarm. It always takes me a while to wake up, so I keep it loud.”

She ignored the impulse to snap at him, and gave him a tight smile. “That’s alright, Gideon. But maybe you could use a different sound?” Anything but a bell.

He nodded, and they both dug into their food.

.

After breakfast, Gideon surrendered his precious laptop to Pacifca so she could check her email- still nothing from her parents, about two dozen store offers, and a few from her fall college professors, reminding her and her fellow freshmen of the summer reading they had to do.

Ever since The Incident, her parents had only spoken once to her: “Get in the car. You’re going to spend the summer with your uncle.” The uncle in question was Bud, of course, but at the time, she hadn’t even known he existed, thanks to her mother cutting off all ties with her “common” brother after she married.

Pacifica closed out of her email account, the monitor switching to Gideon’s Youtube page automatically, his baby blue banner heading the page. The five pointed star, each point a different color, at its center seemed to stare at her, its single eye somehow both accusing and sympathetic. Gideon’s Youtube channel was dedicated to the occult. Because of course it was, why couldn’t anything in her life by remotely normal. She had already been subjected to his most recent videos, explaining how all dachshunds were descended from werewolves and how best to defend yourself from rogue dwarfs. He posted videos religiously, researching obscure topics found all over the internet, the town library, or simply any of Gravity Falls’ more kooky residents.

Gideon’s most popular video, one where he explains how to properly shield your mind from telepaths using salt, tin foil, and determination, had about two dozen views.

Pacifica closed the laptop and handed it back to Gideon, who asked, “You good? Don’t have anything else you need to check?” His voice was still high pitched, and carried a sugar sweet note in it.

She shook her head. “Thanks.”

Gideon beamed at her. “Great! Then let’s go!” He threw himself up out of his chair and flew down the hallway with the laptop clutched in one hand. Pacifica sat frozen for a second before getting up and shuffling after him. “Where are we going?”

“Weren’t you listening to anything I said last night?” Gideon called back from his room. He emerged a second later, Chuck Taylors stuffed haphazardly onto each foot, laces untied. “Grab your shoes, we’re heading to the Mystery Shack.”


	2. Mystery Hack

Pacifica stared up at the moldy old building that served as Gravity Fall’s premier tourist trap.

She was not impressed.

Beside her, Gideon bounced on his toes. “Isn’t it _great_! They have tons of neat exhibits and a gift shop - that’s where I got my hat - and a magic show!”

Pacifica glared at the fallen “S” that turned the Mystery Shack into the “Mystery Hack”. “It’s . . . something, alright.”

Gideon was practically vibrating with excitement, and Pacifica wondered if he was a little old to be so enthusiastic about it.

A bus load of tourists stampeded by, all snapping pictures and exclaiming over the scenery ( _How rustic, how charming!_ ). They swarmed up the steps so they could mill around the sign proclaiming:

Tours Start Here @ [9:00 AM]

$20 Admission

_No Refunds!_

They posed around a cardboard cut out, poking their heads through so they could pretend to be Sasquatch or Bigfoot or whatever it was. The click and flash of cameras burrowed into Pacifica’s brain, and she winced away from the tour group.

At least Gideon wasn’t taking pictures, then.

“Tour starts in five minutes,” Gideon said. “We could go look in the gift shop or just wander around, if you like.”

Pacifica nodded, and moved away from the building, toward a totem pole just beyond the steps leading into the museum, and paused beside it, scrutinizing her surroundings. Tourists, old wood, trees; a goat frolicked by, chewing on what looked like a hat. The woods surrounding the building were thick and dark; the owners probably made sure to keep it that way, to keep up the ambiance of the Shack.

Goosebumps prickled on the back of her neck. Pacifica slowly turned, scanning the trees. A cool breeze ruffled her hair and leaves rustled.

God, this place was creepy.

“Isn’t this cool!” Gideon appeared beside her so suddenly that Pacifica jumped and had to stifle a scream. She punched his shoulder, ignoring his cry of protest. “Don’t scare me like that!” Gideon pouted, rubbing his arm. “Alright, sorry, I didn’t mean to. We should probably go back to the museum, before the tour fills up. You have the twenty bucks, right?”

“What? No, I didn’t even know we’d need money.” And she didn’t have any. “You’re paying.”

“But-”

“Gideon, you’re the one who dragged me here.” She glared down at him. He pouted angrily this time, sticking out his bottom lip and narrowing his eyes, all while managing to look sickeningly adorable too. It was a look that she knew had his parents jumping to do his bidding. But not her.

Pacifica crossed her arms and scowled, channeling that Don’t-You-Dare-Cross-Me-Peasant Look her mother had perfected. “Either you pay or I leave.”

“Fine, fine!” Gideon backed down. “But you’re helping me with my next video.”

Pacifica rolled her eyes, but didn’t object. Even if she wanted to pay, she couldn’t. Her parents weren’t rich anymore, and had barely allowed Pacifica the money to buy clothes and textbooks; she had learned to frequent thrift and used book stores, and had worked her ass off to get scholarships and save up for college. She had nothing to spare for her cousin’s strange whims.

Pacifica followed Gideon back to the museum, where he deposited the money into a box held by a pretty redhead wearing a lumberjack hat, who looked only a few years older than Pacifica. She watched as the girl collected the admission fee from the tourists, before snapping the box shut, tucking it under her arm, and cupping her hands around her mouth in a makeshift megaphone. “Okay, listen up, folks! The tour’s gonna start any minute now, so we thank you for your patience. The tour ends in the gift shop, and then the magic show begins ten minutes after the tour ends in the tent, just follow the signs. It is a separate ticket that you can purchase from me after the tour. If you have any questions, my name’s Wendy and I’ll be in the gift shop. Thank you and have a wonderful time at the Mystery Shack.”

The girl bounded back down the steps and disappeared around the corner, toward the gift shop, Pacifica supposed.

Gideon beamed after her. “That’s Wendy Corduroy, she’s worked here forever. She’s so gorgeous, I _need_ to know what moisturizer she uses.”

_Okay_.

Pacifica was opening her mouth to question whether or not the magic show was really worth the probably exorbitant fee it cost when _BANG_.

Thick grey smoke clouded Pacifica’s vision, engulfing the tour group. Coughing, she reached out blindly and clutched at what she was 75% sure was Gideon’s shoulder.

A gruff voice cut through the exclamations and coughing of the tour group. “Whoa, sorry folks! That one was a bit more explosive than usual!”

Slowly, the smoke cleared, dissipated by the summer breeze, to reveal an old man standing in front of the closed museum entrance, dressed in a suit and maroon bowtie complete with a matching fez. He was working a serious five o’clock shadow, and held a short staff topped with a magic eight ball.

“Alright, everyone ready? Nobody’s blind?” The man took a moment to survey the group, his eyebrows rising slightly as he noticed Pacifica and Gideon near the back.

Satisfied he wouldn’t be sued anytime soon, he reached backwards to open the door to the museum. It creaked menacingly, and Pacifica was surprised they didn’t play any haunted house sound effects.

The guide stepped inside, beckoning them closer. “Come in, come in, but be warned: if you enter, you may not like everything you see.”

He topped it all off with a sinister laugh.

_Oh boy._

The tour group filed into the darkened room; the only lights were the occasional lamps hanging from the wooden beam ceiling and the floor lights illuminating the exhibits.

The exhibits.

Complete nonsense. They were obviously badly taxidermied animals glued together, with a few old wood carvings and vaguely historical looking artefacts scattered between them.

_And_ , Pacifica thought, _we’re_ paying _to be here_.

No wonder they stressed the no refunds policy.

The tour group followed the guide through the room, listened to the increasingly dubious origins of each exhibit with rapt attention. Time inched by, as Pacifica’s feet soon began to ache in her battered Chuck Taylors and she realized that the museum wasn’t air conditioned.

By the time the tour was finished a half hour later, the last exhibit being a rock that looked like a face, Pacifica was ready to go back to Uncle Bud’s and sleep until lunch.

But Gideon had other ideas.

She loitered beside the cash register as he darted through the gift shop, flipping through the racks of clothes and peering into the slow globes.

“So, you’re new in town?”

Pacifica looked around to see the redheaded girl from earlier watching her, a magazine abandoned in her lap.

“Uh, yeah.” Pacifica tried to smile. “Staying with Gideon and Uncle Bud for the summer.”

The girl nodded and stuck out her hand. “Wendy Corduroy.”

Pacifica shook it. “Pacifica Northwest.”

“Cool name. But I take it you’re not exactly a fan of the supernatural?”

Pacifica shook her head. “No, but Gideon was really excited. And I didn’t have anything better to do,” she added, just make sure that Wendy didn’t mistake her for a good person.

Wendy nodded. “Yeah, this place isn’t the best if you want to go monster hunting. If you wanna find something good and weird, you need to go out into the woods. Or underground, there’s loads of crazy things buried around here.”

“Err, thanks for the tip?” It came out more like a question, but Wendy seemed to take Pacifica’s withdrawn manner in stride. “No problem. But, uh, hey, since this is a tiny town, and I know it can be kinda weird just hanging out with your kid cousin, can I give you my number? I’ll give you a shout next time me and my friends meet up.”

Pacifica nodded, and dug her cracked phone out of her pocket and handed it wordlessly to Wendy, who punched in her number. Pacifica sent her a ghost emoji, making the older girl snicker.

Pacifica decided she liked Wendy. She could use some friends; at home, the ones she had from when she was rich ignored her, and everyone else hated her because of her awful behavior from when she was rich.

Bottom line, no one to sit with at lunch.

Gideon appeared, cradling a shrunken head. “Hey Wendy, how much is this?”

“Ten bucks.”

He forked over the cash. _How much money does Bud give this kid?_ “And how much is the magic show?”

“Ten bucks a ticket,” Wendy answered.

Gideon’s face fell. “Oh, I only have ten left. One of us won’t be able to see it.”

“That’s okay,” Pacifica said quickly. “I’ll just wait here. You go on without me.”

“But you should see it-”

“Really, Gideon, it’s not that big a deal-”

“Dudes,” Wendy interrupted. “I’ll just give you the extra ticket.”

Pacifica’s mouth fell open. “Oh, no, we really can’t do that.”

“No, it’s fine!” Wendy insisted. She ducked underneath the counter and pulled out a roll of tickets stubs. She plucked off one and handed it to Gideon, before grabbing a stray piece of paper and scribbling “WENDY” on it. “Here, just give this to the ticket guy, Soos, and tell him I sent you. I can’t actually give you the ticket, because Mr. Pines, the owner, counts them at the end of the day and matches it to our profits.”

She held out the paper. Pacifica hesitated. “I really don’t want to get you in trouble.”

“No, it’s fine!” Wendy waved the scrap in Pacifica’s face. She leaned closer and lowered her voice to a whisper. “It’s just Dipper fucking around anyway, I won’t charge you to watch this shit; you already had to go through the tour.”

“Pleeeease, Pacifica?” Gideon begged.

“Well. . . alright,” Pacifica relented and took the contraband ticket. “I owe you one.”

She hated owing people.

“Cool,” Wendy said cheerfully. “You guys should get a move on, it starts soon. There’s a sign out there that says “Magic Show This Way.” Just follow that. Do you want me to wrap up that shrunken head, Gideon?”

“No thanks.”

“Alright. See you around.”

Dismissed, Gideon scrambled for the exit, the door slamming behind him.

Pacifica watched him go before giving Wendy a small wave in goodbye and shuffling after her cousin.

Pacifica liked Gideon. He didn’t judge her for her former money-fueled bitchiness (he also hadn’t known her then, and now she was just an irascible bitch instead of a snobby one) and he didn’t value her for whatever money she did or did not have.

But Gideon was also just her kid cousin, and a kind of spoiled one at that. In the two days she had been staying with the Gleefuls, Pacifica could already tell that his parents denied him nothing. Bud approached him with a deferential attitude very far from how most fathers talked to their children, and, as far as Pacifica could tell, his mother provided food and a cleaning service, but shied away from a relationship with her son.

In short, Gideon was the alpha dog in his house, his reign kept through controlled temper tantrums and adorable sweetness, and Pacifica wasn’t sure how she fit into the pack.

As she walked down the path, marked with signs proclaiming “SHOW THIS WAY!” and “DON’T FORGET YOUR TICKET!” and simply “????????”, Pacifica pondered her extended family. And herself. For all her usual crabbiness, she had made an effort with the Gleefuls she hadn’t before. Like her parents, they were bound by familial obligations to take care of her, but unlike her parents, Bud actually treated her like a human being. No insane diets, no clothing inspections, no backhanded comments, and no bells. She was basically allowed to roam wherever, as long as she came back at a decent time. There weren’t many places to roam, but having the freedom to do so was nice.

The sound of distant music reached Pacifica’s ears, and she shoved her hands into the pockets of her thrift store-jeans-turned-shorts and picked up the pace, nearly tripping over several exposed roots as she walked.

As she reached the end of the trail (“WELCOME TO THE TENT OF MYSTERY!!!”), the clearing in which the tent was settled came into view. Another totem pole stood guard by a tan tepee decorated with symbols Pacifica could only describe as eccentric. A pine tree was most prominent, as well as several shooting stars and, of course, question marks. She could see a few small fish that matched the one on the tour guide -Mr. Pines’- fez. What looked like an ice pack. A llama. And, at the top, a single malevolent eye in a triangle that reminded Pacifica of the pyramid on the dollar bill. Music played from an unseen source; it sounded like a vaguely familiar movie soundtrack.

It was actually sort of creepy in a weirdly haphazard way.

“Hey, dude!”

The voice knocked Pacifica out of her reverie, and she looked around to see who she guessed was Soos; he was a tall guy, but also portly, a bit chubby and sporting a double chin, and wearing a staff t-shirt with yet another giant question mark splayed across the front. “You here to watch the show?”

“Uh, yeah.” Pacifica hurried toward him, digging out the already crumpled Wendy ticket out of her pocket. “Er, Wendy said to give you this?”

“Oh, okay, cool.” Soos glanced down at the name scribbled across it before stuffing it into his own pocket. He waved a hand at the open flap leading into the tent. “Enjoy the show!”

Pacifica ducked into the tent, and quickly found Gideon sitting in the second row of wooden benches. She slid in beside him, and glanced around. The inside was painted much like the outside, with pine trees, shooting stars, and other random items. Small electric lanterns hung from nails in each bench, illuminating the dim interior. In front of the benches, a small wooden platform sat, complete a small stool. The canvas behind the platform was painted black, and whirl of stars flecked over it, the Big Dipper splayed over them.

The tent darkened further as the entrance flap swung shut, and Pacifica could see Soos sitting just inside, fumbling with something she couldn’t see. Probably a speaker, since a drumroll replaced the soundtrack permeating the room, and a teenage boy about Pacifica’s own age sidled onto the platform.

The first thing she noticed about him was the cape.

It was ridiculous.

He wore a classic magician’s outfit bedecked with turquoise sequins and embroidered stars, a barely glowing amulet (probably battery powered) fixed to a _bowlo tie_ of all things. His hair was slicked back to show off another Big Dipper drawn on his forehead.

Well, if he was going for an utterly ludicrous style, he certainly managed it.

He dawdled at the edge of the platform for a moment, sifting through a pocket in his slacks, and _poof_! Smoke exploded from the floor at his feet, and when it cleared a moment later, the boy was standing at the center, arms spread wide, smirking _just_ enough to make him look like an ass.

Pacifica wondered if the Shack bought smoke bombs in bulk.

The music shuffled from the drumroll to a clangy background music, more like something that played at an amusement park. “Welcome” proclaimed the boy. “To the Tent of Mystery! I am the Big Dipper!” He bowed at the waist, a decent imitation of a dapper gentlemen, and kicked off the show with the appearance of a bouquet of flowers in his hand, which of course he gave to an older tourist parked in front of Pacifica and Gideon.

“The Big Dipper” bounced between tricks, classic things that Pacifica could vaguely remember watching performed as a child; a vanishing rabbit, conjured doves twittering upward and vanishing out of the hole in the tent ceiling, an infinite scarf pulled from his sleeve.

The most interesting part was when he addressed the audience. “Who’s from out of town? Raise your hand. No, wait, stop.”

He stepped off the platform and pointed at the woman closest to him, still clutching the flowers gifted to her earlier. “South Dakota, right? Rapid City?”

“Omigosh, yes! How’d you know?”

The Big Dipper only smiled and bowed his head slightly. The amulet seemed to glow a little brighter. He continued on to the other tourists. Phoenix. Salt Lake City. Lexington. St. Louis. Soos or Wendy or somebody probably checked the license plates of the cars parked outside the shack. He paused as he reached Pacifica, studying her intently, and she had to stop herself from squirming. He wasn’t leering at her, merely examining. It unnerved her.

“I hope you enjoy your summer here, Pacifica.”

Pacifica blinked. “Uh, thanks.” _Wendy must have told him my name, texted it to him or something._

He nodded.

Pacifica stared.

The Big Dipper turned to Gideon, and his smile froze on his face. “Gideon. What a surprise.”

“Hi!” Gideon seemed delighted that he remembered his name, and he fidgeted in his seat.

“You’ve been here before.”

“Yeah, I’m surprised you remember me!” Gideon's shoes tapped against the packed dirt floor.

“. . . Yeah. You’ve . . . There’s something different about you.” The amulet seemed to glare at them in the dark light. Slowly, the Big Dipper moved on.

 


	3. Funniest Gnome Videos

Gideon was determined to make sure Pacifica delivered on her promise to help him with a video.

She surmised this fact as he woke her- _again_ -from her nap the next afternoon. Honestly, sleeping was just about the only thing Pacifica found sincere joy in doing.

“Okay,” Gideon explained as he peered through the camera at her. “I’m gonna reshoot the mind shield thing with you, and then after that we’re going to walk in the woods for some creepy shots, _maybe_ even find a monster or something. It’ll be cool to have another person in my videos, especially a girl. I’m hoping that’ll boost traffic.”

Deciding to ignore that last bit, Pacifica nodded from her spot by his vanity, and did her best to avoid looking at the popsicle stick model of the town sitting atop it. The room was a little creepy; its dark green walls and old, sinister furniture clashed with the cheerful pastel green of the bedspread and the old teddy bear nestled on a pillow. Supernatural paraphernalia lined the room- fuzzy snapshots of strange shapes were tacked up a corkboard on the wall, and there was more than one Mystery Shack souvenir on the dresser. The lightbulbs lining the vanity mirror were the only source of light, and the their heat burned the back of Pacifica’s neck. Did Gideon actually believe any of this stuff? If he hadn’t bought her something - as stupid and time consuming it had been - she wouldn’t even have let him drag her off the couch. 

“You saw the video I made the first time, right?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Cool, so you basically know what to do. I’ll walk you through it, though. It requires a lot of mindful thinking, once you’ve gotten through the chant.”

“Uh-huh.”

Pacifica did as Gideon bid her, fashioning a rough top hat out of tin foil and perching it on her sleep matted hair, pouring a rough oval of salt onto the carpet (“Mother will clean it up,” Gideon has assured her), and mumbling out the chant Gideon had scribbled on the back of a Mr. Adequate-Bar wrapper, then sitting there and letting him talk her through the “meditation” that the ritual required.

Pacifica was just dozing off again when Gideon said brightly, “Alright, that’s it. Your mind is impenetrable now.”

She yawned, detangling the tin foil hat from her hair, and stood up to stretch. “Cool.”

Gideon hurried across to the camera on its tripod and pressed some buttons before detaching it and shoving it into a baby blue backpack. “Come on, I want to explore some of the trees near the Mystery Shack. Even if we don’t find anything supernatural to film, I can get some spooky shots.” He bounded out of the bedroom as Pacifica followed behind, hopping on each foot to stuff her feet into her sneakers.

.

The woods around the Mystery Shack were quiet- probably because it was late afternoon by the time they got over there; the sign by the museum entrance read “LAST TOUR @ 4:30” and it was 4:40 when they got there. A few people milled around the front porch of the Gift Shop, though, and Pacifica could see Wendy’s silhouette in the window. Gideon snapped a picture of the Shack before hurrying past, toward where the Tent would be.

Deciding that she would rather not watch Gideon geek out over the Mystery Shack and possibly be arrested for trespassing, Pacifica wandered in the opposite direction, towards a trail wide enough for a golf cart to use. The trees here were more spread out, and light filtered through the trees, casting a sweet golden glow over the plants and pine straw coated forest floor. A few signs dotted here and there, with more inane slogans scribbled on them.

It was actually nice. Pacifica just stood there for a moment, taking in the idyllic scene, before wandering over to a thick tree and leaning against it.

It was just Pacifica and the whispering wind and the golden sun. So much better than the poorly maintained public garden across the street from her parents’ apartment- Pacifica had spent so much time among the weeds and dying azaleas and overgrown honeysuckle, avoiding her parents and doing homework on the rickety stone bench at the garden’s center. Compared to this place, the garden seemed more abandoned and sadder than she remembered- less of a refuge. The plants here were thriving, kept in their prime by nature - in a few years, the place would be, at its core, the same.

It was comforting.

Overhead, a cloud glided away, and sunlight glared right into her face. Pacifica flinched back, shutting her eyes.

Okay, nice moment over.

Pacifica sighed and let her head fall back onto the tree’s thick trunk.

_Clang_.

Trees don’t clang.

Pacifica straightened up, turned to face the tree. Tapped it with a fingernail. The same sound echoed through the metallic trunk. Okay, definitely not a tree then. Tracing her fingers over the surface- metal, stained to match the surrounding tree trunks -she brushed away the dust and debris that had accumulated in what must have been years.

There was a fake tree in the woods.

_What_.

Pacifica ran her hands over the Not-Tree again, and this time her nail caught on- a latch. She tugged, and a bit of metal came loose, revealing a compartment in the tree. The metal thing sitting inside looked like an old radio, with switches and dials, all of it crusted with dust.

_Okay, I could leave this here and. . . do what? Just leave it? That would be crazy boring and I’d go nuts wondering what this thing did. But if I mess around with it, who knows what would happen. Could trigger an old land mine or something. How did those even work? And how old was this thing? Would_ it _still work?_

Only one way to find out.

Pacifica flipped the switch.

The sound of scraping metal greeted her, and Pacifica turned to see a patch of grass sliding out of sight, opening yet another hidden compartment.

But this one held a book.

Like the device in the tree, it was old, covered in dust and cobwebs. A faded hand was drawn in gold on the cover, the number three scribbled over it. Wait- did it have six fingers?

Pacifica remembered what Wendy had told her the other day: _If you wanna find something good and weird, you need to go out into the woods. Or underground, there’s loads of crazy things buried around here._

Pacifica wondered what else was buried in Gravity Falls.

She bent and picked up the book, brushing off the grime coating it, and flipped through its pages.

Oh, Gideon would lose his shit over this. Page after page of detailed drawings of magical phenomena, messy symbols, and indecipherable scribbles.

The sunlight caught the golden cover of the book, and Pacifica looked around, realizing that her cousin would be looking for her. She stuffed the book into her secondhand bag, and took a few steps in the direction of the Mystery Shack. God, she hoped Gideon hadn’t done anything stu- Pacifica tripped over something and fell, her head hitting something hard as she collided with the Earth, and something was pressed against her face, it smelled strange and weirdly sweet, and she wanted to get up but someone pulled her back down, and the smell was so strong. . .

.

Pacifica could not move her arms or legs.

As she struggled against the ropes binding her to the forest floor, her head swam. That cloying, sweet smell stuck in her nose, and her head hurt. She thought she could hear whispers around her, but she couldn’t see them - just the trees overhead.

“She’s awake!”

“She’s a lot bigger than the last one.”

“Schmebulock!”

“And lighter hair too.”

There was a pressure on her chest, and her view of the forest canopy was blocked by- a little bearded man?

“Hello,” he said calmly, as if he hadn’t just roofied and kidnapped her. Pacifica stared up at him, eyes wide, then slammed them shut. She was dreaming, right? No, she could still feel the moss underneath her, and thin ropes crisscrossing her body, something pressing uncomfortably into her ribs. And the weight on her boobs.

Pacifica opened her eyes again. _Yup_.

The tiny man was watching her carefully, and when he was sure he had her full attention, he began: “Well, uh, we’re gnomes. Hi. You seem a little, uh, disturbed, but uh, you gotta be cool about this. Just keep an open mind. We are gnomes, and that’s okay.”

Pacifica couldn’t bring herself to reply. How was she supposed to respond to being kidnapped _by creatures that did not exist-_

“I’m Jeff,” the gnomes continued, and he pointed at something out of Pacifica’s line of sight, because she couldn’t look away from the magical creature standing on her boob- oh, if he got her favorite blouse dirty he was _so_ going down- “That’s Steve, and there’s Jason and Carson, and, uh, what’s-his-name-”

“Schmebulock.”

“Yeah, whatever. Anyways, long story short, us gnomes have been looking for a new queen-”

Several high pitched voices broke out in a chant of “Queen!”

“And we’ve decided that you’re going to be our queen. You’ll live here in the forest with us for the rest of your life, and we’ll basically love you and worship you, and then you’ll be the mother of the next gnome generation. Um, what’s your name?”

Pacifica’s jaw worked, and she was being _staked down_ and _kidnapped_ and maybe even about to be _raped_? By _GNOMES_?

“ _What the fuck!_ ” Pacifica shouted, her voice hoarse but strong. “ _What the absolute FUCK_!”

Her outburst startled Jeff, and he fell back onto her stomach- “Uh,” he scrambled, “What a pretty name, uh, lemme just get that ring-”

“ _No_!” Pacifica surged upward, pulling the stakes out the ground and sending the gnomes sprawling onto the moss. She clambered to her feet, stumbling a little bit - her head _hurt-_ and stared down at the cluster of _motherfucking gnomes_ gaping up at her. “What the fuck,” she repeated, her voice a littler clearer now, “You guys kidnap me and expect me to just sit back let you- let you- _no_! I’m outta here!”

Pacifica moved toward what looked like the entrance to the glen- this part of the forest was different from the Mystery Shack’s, brighter and greener, with red toadstools dotting the ground and more space between the towering trees.

Jeff shouted something- Pacifica caught the word “escape”- and the gnomes moved to cut off her flight, the size of the herd doubling as more appeared out of the bushes. They formed a picket line in front of her, Jeff somehow balanced on two other gnomes’ heads. “You said you would be cool about this! Come on, just give us a chance!”

Ignoring him, Pacifica _kicked_ , the top of her sneaker connecting with the gnome, and he went flying, smashing into a tree farther down the path out of the forest and slumping onto the grass. Without their leader, the other gnomes scattered as she plowed forward and sprinted down the trail, making sure to step on Jeff as she went by.

As she ran, the forest changed from the verdant thickets of the gnomes to the more sparse woods of reality, and it grew darker, the west growing a bright orange- how long had she been out? The back of her head ached, and Pacifica was sure whatever they’d given her was out of her system, but she had hit her head on the way down. Maybe she had a concussion.

Pacifica tripped over something- a tree root maybe -and nearly fell, but she staggered back to her feet and kept running. Her skull pounded, and she felt something wet trickling down the back of her neck- blood? sweat? Gnome roofies?

Pacifica stumbled through a bush and- there! The lights of the Mystery Shack shone like a beacon, and she hurtled toward it, taking two long strides before something grabbed her arm. _Small hands_ -

She shrieked, and whirled around to face her attacker. “Hey! Calm down, it’s only me!”

Gideon.

Pacifica stopped and panted, staring down at her little cousin. She opened her mouth to speak, but the words wouldn’t come.

“Where have you- whoa, Pacifica, are you okay? You look-”

A giant _thud_ filled the clearing, and Pacifica felt the earth beneath her shake. Gideon’s voice rose an octave. “What was that?”

Another _thud_ and Pacifica knew that if there was a glass of water handy, it would be rippling.

The creature that emerged from the forest was almost cartoonish: a giant gnome that glowed red in the sunset. It stomped into the Mystery Shack parking lot, and Pacifica registered that its sharp red teeth were really the gnomes’ little hats. It would have been funny if it hadn’t fucking _roared_ and began to move toward them.

Gideon grabbed Pacifica’s arm and pulled her back, stumbling toward the steps of the Mystery Shack- the tourists had gone. Pacifica stared up at the monster’s hat- there was Jeff, with a black eye, but still functioning. As she watched, he tugged on another gnome’s head, and the monster launched a fit forward, sending a strike team of gnomes hurtling toward her. One overshot them entirely and hurtled through the screen door of the Shack, the other scored a direct hit on Gideon’s head and clung to his hair, screaming bloody murder. The last, cackling madly, headed straight for Pacifica, and before she knew what she was doing, she swung her purse, hitting it dead on and sending it spinning into a nearby leaf pile.

Jeff yelled down at her as Pacifica yanked the second gnome from Gideon’s hair (taking more than a few white blond strands with it): “Be reasonable! Marry us before we do something crazy!”

“What?” Gideon yelped beside her. “What- Pacifica?”

She ignored him, too busy glaring up at Jeff. “You fucker! I am not responsible for your actions!” she yelled back. “You deal with your own shit and stop motherfucking kidnapping people!”

“Oh come on-” Jeff began to shout when he was cut off by an earsplitting _wheeeeeeeeeeeeee_! Everyone, Pacifica and Gideon included, instinctively put their hands up to cover their ears, and the gnome army collapsed. Yelping and shouting, they fell from the sky, Jeff toppling into a tiny heap in front of the steps.

The whistle sounded again, and the gnomes scattered, racing back into the forest, scrambling over logs and stumbling into trees. Jeff struggled to his feet and made to follow but he was snatched up by their savior. Pacifica tore her eyes away from the miniscule fallen militia to see- Wendy Corduroy.

If she was surprised by the existence of gnomes, she didn’t show it. She held Jeff by the scruff of his neck and glared down at him. “Seriously, Jeff,” she said. “You’ve been warned about this.”

The gnome wriggled. “Oh, hiiiii, Wendy, it’s so nice to see you, um, well, if you put me down I’ll just be on my way.”

Wendy held him up higher, and he kicked feebly at the air before giving up and sighing. “Sorry,” he muttered.

“I didn’t hear that,” Wendy said cooly. She shook him, and Jeff yelped out, “Sorry- sorry! Won’t happen again.”

“You bet your ass it won’t,” Wendy growled. She turned to Pacifica and held out the gnome. “You wanna do the honors?”

Pacifica took him, and, just as before, punted him into the forest. The little creature screamed he disappeared into the trees, and Pacifica was sure she heard a distance _crunch_.

“‘Kay,” Wendy said, “That should do it. If you mess ‘em up good once, they probably won’t be back. But here-” she took a long silver whistle out of her pocket “Guaranteed gnomed repellant. They hate the sound of it, some sort of _Heart of Darkness_ shit.”

Pacifica took the whistle. She stared down at it as it gleamed in the dim light. “So. Gnomes exist.”

“Yeah.”

“WAIT.” Pacifica registered Gideon, standing beside her, jaw hanging open. “Those were _GNOMES_?”

“Get with the program, Gideon,” Pacifica snapped. “What did you think they were, unicorns?” She paused, and turned back to Wendy. “Are unicorns a thing?”

Wendy shrugged, her red hair gleaming. “If they are, I haven’t seen ‘em.”

They stood in silence, watching as a goat bound by, chewing on a plastic soda ring that a gnome had gotten caught in.

“I think I have a concussion,” Pacifica blurted.

Wendy turned and moved back up the steps. “I’ll get you an ice pack.”

.

“ _Why are we back here_ ,” Pacifica hissed as she followed Gideon through the forest. The bandage on her head itched, and she wished she had stayed at home with Gideon’s mom. Not creeping through the weird wooded area where she had only yesterday been kidnapped.

“I need to get a picture,” Gideon hissed back. “I just stood there and watched them- I had my camera! Why didn’t at least take a picture of the one with the goa-”

“Okay, well, why do you need me for this.” Pacifica stepped around a ring of toadstools- better not piss off any faeries. If they existed.

“Because I dunno where the gnomes live.”

Pacifica rolled her eyes, not bothering to tell him how close they really were. “I dunno how to get there either, they kidnapped _me,_ remember?”

“Yeah but you came back by yourself- wait. Did you hear that?”

“What-”

“ _Hide_!” Gideon shoved her into the bushes and stumbled in after her, and Pacifica bit back a yelp as pain spiked through her head.

“ _Gideo-_ ”

“Quiet,” he hissed, pulling her down so they were lying on their stomachs. “Someone’s coming.” She watched as, with shaking fingers, he tugged his phone out of his jacket pocket and opened the camera, pointing it so they had a view of the path they just vacated so gracefully. He hit the record button.

Pacifica heard footsteps. Two sets, from opposite directions. One came into view before the other- Jeff. Pacifica gritted her teeth.

The second- human, but scruffy. Converse, ripped jeans. Red v-neck. And a gleaming blue amulet on a leather cord.

The Big Dipper. Except, not in costume. His hair was styled so it covered his forehead, and the bowlo tie was gone, replaced by the necklace. But he still felt vaguely sinister, even if he was a good deal prettier.

As he reached Jeff, he stopped and crossed his arms. “Well.”

Jeff scuffed at the moss. “We need a queen, alright. You haven’t kept your promise.”

“I haven’t found you a queen yet because you haven’t fulfilled _your_ end of the bargain.”

“That bargain is stupid. I don’t know why we agreed to that,” the gnome muttered.”We’ve looked everywhere. Every nook, every cranny. The book’s not here.”

“It has to be.”

“It’s not,” Jeff insisted. “There is no book with a golden six fingered hand in Gravity Falls. And we’re tired of looking for something that can’t be found.”

A chill went down Pacifica’s spine. A book with a golden six fingered hand on the cover- like the one sitting in her bedroom back at Uncle Bud’s house.

“Come on, Jeff,” Dipper’s voice went from admonishing to cajoling. “You want a queen, don’t you? Find the book, and I’ll find you a queen. One that you don’t have to kidnap.”

Jeff shook his head. “No. We’ll look for a new queen ourselves. We’ve all talked about it, and we’re all tired of doing your dirty work.”

“Please?”

Jeff shook his head.

“Fine.”

Dipper’s fingers creeped up and wrapped around the amulet. The gnome blinked.

“What do you say now?” Dipper asked.

“Okay,” the gnome nodded. “We’ll do it. We’ll find that book in exchange for a new queen.”

“Good. Now why don’t you go along and tell the others?”

Jeff tottered off, a blissful smile on his face.

Gideon’s phone shook, as he struggled to keep still. He twitched and the bushes rustled.

Dipper whirled around to find the source of the noise, his hand clutching the amulet. “Who’s there?”

Pacifica held her breath. Gideon froze.

Dipper watched the bushes carefully for a moment, before- _shing_. The sound of a sword being drawn. Pacifica blinked, confused, but then- there was a noise, and she felt leaves landing in her hair.

No one moved.

Dipper, at last, moved away, strolling back down the way he had come.

Pacifica and Gideon stayed frozen for what felt like hours.

“I think he’s gone,” Gideon whispered. His face was white. He struggled to his feet, shoving his camera back into his pocket so he could help Pacifica up. Her head swam as the blood rushed back down to her toes, her eyesight briefly clouding over. When it finally cleared, she stared at the bushes they had taken refuge in in shock.

The entire top half had been sliced off, like someone had taken a long, sharp sword and swung it through. Pacifica knew, if the bushes hadn’t been as thick, or if the slice was a few inches lower-

Dipper had magic. That was how he had known her name. He had known that the gnomes had kidnapped her, whether he had just watched from the Shack or if Wendy had just told him.

Psychic.

And for some reason, he wanted her book.

Shit.

**Author's Note:**

> The next chapter will be longer; this is the first time I'm actually going with a multichap plot I've made up myself, instead of simply an AU where I just follow the lines set down for me. Please have patience, and constructive criticism is always welcome.


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